


Get Me In Trouble

by scottmcniceass



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blowjobs, Hogwarts!au, I'm not sorry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-19 07:28:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottmcniceass/pseuds/scottmcniceass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is in his seventh and finale year at Hogwarts. Things were supposed to go smoothly-- he'd work hard, hang out with his friends, the usual. Unfortunately for him, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher has it out for him. To make matters worse, he happens to be the most attractive person Stiles had ever laid eyes on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Me In Trouble

“Danny, have you seen my tie?” Stiles asked, pulling back the covers on his bed.  
  
Danny rolled his eyes. “No, I haven’t. If you actually put your clothes away, you’d be able to find it.”  
  
“Thanks for the advice,” Stiles muttered, bending down to look under his bed. Not there. He stood up and scrunched up his eyes as he thought. “Oh, right,” he realized, grabbing his Hogwarts: A History book. There, folded into one of the pages, was his tie. “Used it as a bookmark last night.”  
  
Stiles pulled the already looped blue and bronze tie over his head. He didn’t bother tightening it. “You might want to fix that.” Danny warned, gathering his own books. “We have DADA first period.”  
  
Stiles made a face at him. “So?” He asked. “You know Mulder doesn’t care if we’re even wearing our uniforms at all. Remember last year? I went down to his class in my Harpies shirt.”  
  
“Mulder isn’t teaching Defence this year.” Danny told him.  
  
Stiles, who had been using his wand to clean a spot on his robes, looked up at Danny with wide eyes. “What?”  
  
“He switched to charms now that Flitwick retired. Something about Defence being too much for him in his old age.” Danny shrugged. “Apparently the new professor is really young, though. And hot, according to Lydia. ”  
  
Danny tucked his books under his arm and headed for the door. Stiles went after him, forgetting his own books on his bed. Whatever, he had Defence with the Gryffindors this year, if he remembered his schedule properly. He could just share Scott’s.   
  
“What’s her name?” Stiles demanded, almost running into a forth year as he followed Danny’s quick steps.  
  
“His, and, uh, Hale, or something.” Danny answered, not slowing down. He and Danny weren’t exactly friends. Danny mostly tolerated him, and that was it.   
  
Stiles froze and almost caused a pile-up in the hallway. A girl in his year glared at him as she shouldered past, but Stiles didn’t really notice. Because-- no, it couldn’t be.  
  
“Not _Derek_ Hale, right?” Stiles called after Danny, who had just crossed paths with Lydia Martin. Danny didn’t turn or answer and Stiles felt cold.  
  
The Hale’s were a well known wizarding family. Well, they had been. Most of them were wiped out now, the only members of the prestigious family left being Derek and his uncle, Peter. Four years ago, Stiles’ father had Derek arrested under the suspicions of practicing the dark arts. They’d found questionably charmed objects in his house, and in turn Derek had ended up serving a year in Azkaban.  
  
How the hell he’d managed to get a job after that, Stiles had no idea. Let alone one at _Hogwarts_.  
  
Stiles rolled his shoulders and calmed his breathing. It wasn’t that big of a deal. It’s not like the guy would hold some grudge over Stiles’ father for that. Right? Of course not.  
  
He followed a group of younger students through the common room and out the door.

  
  
\--

  
  
“My Name is Derek Hale,” Derek said from the front of the room. Stiles watched his every move. He told himself that it was because he was a teacher, and that was what he was _supposed_ to be doing. It had nothing to do with the fact that the guy was gorgeous. Or that he had a nice ass. “You’ll call me Professor Hale, and nothing else.”  
  
Everyone in the room made sounds of affirmation, including Scott, who was sitting to Stiles’ left. Scott kept wrapping his tie around his quill before unravelling it. Normally, Stiles would find that distracting, and would tell him to stop. At the moment, though, he could care less, because he wasn’t taking his eyes off Derek for a moment.  
  
Why he’d been worried before, he had no idea. Derek Hale was possibly the best thing to happen to Hogwarts-- ever. Definitely ever. The only issue was that Stiles might actually fail DADA this year, if Derek was going to look that distracting every class.   
  
“Does anyone want to give me a brief overview of what you’ve learned in the last six years?” Derek asked, and nearly every hand in the room went up. Including Stiles’.  
  
Derek-- Professor Hale, he corrected-- met his eyes. “Name?” He asked.  
  
“Stiles Stilinski,” Stiles answered quickly, trying to put on his most charming smile.   
  
“Stilinski,” Derek repeated. His eyes narrowed and Stiles almost shrunk back in his seat at the sudden intensity of his glare.   
  
Crap.

  
  
\--

  
“He _hates_ me,” Stiles moaned at lunch. He was sitting at the Gryffindor table beside Scott and Boyd. He didn’t even have the stomach to eat the food on his plate, for once. Okay, he didn’t have the stomach to eat it all.  
  
“I don’t think he _hates_ you, dude,” Scott said sympathetically. “He just--,” Scott waved his hand, at a loss for words.  
  
“Hates him.” Boyd supplied, chuckling.  
  
“Yeah, he does.” Stiles agreed, stabbing at a sausage on his plate. “I’ve got two days worth of detention already, and all I did was answer a question before he called on me.”  
  
“And got caught staring at his ass.” Scott pointed out.  
  
“I was not.” Stiles said vehemently. But he totally had been. It was a nice ass. He wasn’t to blame there.  
  
Scott opened his mouth, probably to tease Stiles more, but the door to the great hall open, a group of Slytherin seventh years walking in.  
  
“Hey, Isaac!” Scott called, grinning widely at the tall, curly haired boy. Isaac grinned back for a moment before Jackson put a hand on his arm and muttered something to him, too quiet for anyone else to pick up. The grin disappeared and he looked away from Scott, heading towards the Slytherin table. Scott sighed.  
  
Stiles went back to poking at his food, wondering if Derek really did hate him, and if it was because of the bad blood between his father and Derek, or if it was just Stiles that he didn’t like. He sincerely hoped it wasn’t the latter.

 

  
\--

  
  
After class on Friday, he headed back downstairs to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Derek was still sitting inside at his desk, waiting. He didn’t look up when Stiles walked in.  
  
“So, uh,” Stiles wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.   
  
It wasn’t like this was his first time getting detention. It was just his first time getting detention from this particular professor. Some professors, he’d learned over the years, weren’t to bad when it came to detention. He’d clean an unused classroom, go down to the kitchens and help with cooking or cleanup, that sort of thing. Others, though, had him doing less desirable things, like the time in third year when he had to help Hagrid feed the thestrals. He couldn’t see them, and it had been terrifying.  
  
“Sit,” Derek ordered, still not looking up. His head was bent down and he had a quill clutched in his fingers, but he wasn’t writing. His face was more relaxed than Stiles was used to seeing it, and it made his features look less sharp.   
  
“Okay,” Stiles said slowly, walking closer to the front of the room. He sat down on a stool at one of the front tables. “Are we--,”  
  
“Shut up,”  Derek told him. “Don’t move, don’t speak.”  
  
Stiles shut his mouth quickly and Derek went back to reading or whatever it was he was doing. Stiles wasn’t sure how much time passed, but he’d been sitting at the desk, doing nothing but watching Derek, or picking at a loose thread on his robes. He kept waiting for Derek to say something, but he never did, and Stiles was starting to get really bored. He didn’t deal well with boredom.  
  
“Is this it?” Stiles asked eventually.   
  
Derek looked up at him sharply. “What did I say about talking?”  
  
Stiles narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. He’d rather be scooping Hippogriff dung than sitting there, doing nothing. Derek didn’t seem to notice, or care.   
  
Stiles leaned back in his chair and loosened his tie. He wished he would have brought his books, or at least his homework, with him. That way he’d have something to do.   
  
Of course, he had his wand. He wasn’t sure how Derek would react to him using it, though, so he didn’t bother.   
  
“Is it hot in here?” Stiles asked after a bit longer. He couldn’t tell what time of day it was due to the curtain covering the window, but it had to almost be dinner time.   
  
Derek gave him a suffering look. “No, it’s not.”  
  
Stiles rolled his eyes and slipped off his cloak. Derek watched him before clearing his throat and going back to his work.   
  
“Are we seriously just going to sit here? This is your idea of punishment?” Stiles questioned. “That seems a little weak, don’t you think?”  
  
Derek raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, I think it’s working.” He said, and Stiles glared at him for it. “Now shut up, or I’ll add another day of this.”  
  
Stiles slumped forward and let his head hit the desk. Maybe he could sleep, he ventured. Of course, Derek would probably just give him another detention for that. Because Derek apparently really, really hated Stiles.  
  
“You know, it’s really unfair of you to give me detention just because my dad arrested you like four years ago.” Stiles pointed out, words muffled by the desk.  
  
When he looked up, Derek was smirking at him. “You can go.” He said, standing up. “I’ll see you here tomorrow, and the Sunday, and Monday.”  
  
Stiles gaped at him. Derek either didn’t notice, or didn’t care.  
  


\--

  
At dinner, Scott joined him at the Ravenclaw table. Stiles wasn’t much for conversation, though. He kept meeting Derek’s eyes from where he sat at the professor’s table. Every time he did, Derek would quickly look away, like he’d been caught. Stiles didn’t know what to make of that, or how he felt about it.  
  
About halfway through, Scott elbowed him. “Stop staring, dude,” he said under his breath.  
  
Stiles pulled his eyes away. “What?”  
  
“I said stop staring before someone notices, idiot.” Scott rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you have a crush on the only professor who happens to hate you.”  
  
“I happen to hate _you_.” Stiles shot at him. Scott just grinned. “You’re a terrible friend. And I don’t have a crush.”  
  
He didn’t. In fact, he was kind of growing to hate Derek just as much as Derek seemed to hate him.   
  
“Want to go play a game of Quidditch after?” Scott asked, changing the subject.  
  
Scott as Gryffindor Quidditch captain, and technically, he had access to the equipment at all times. This meant that he could call practices whenever he wanted. Usually, it just meant that he and Stiles could screw around on the pitch.  
  
“I can’t,” Stiles said mournfully. “I need to do my homework tonight, since I don’t know if I’m going to get a chance to do it tonight or tomorrow, with the detentions.”  
  
Scott pouted for a moment before cheering considerably. “I’ll just ask Isaac, instead.”  
  
Stiles threw a piece of lettuce at him. “Who’s the one with the crush?” He teased.  
  


\--

  
  
Stiles spent most of the night in the library, even after the rest of the students went back to their common rooms. He figured it was best to just get all his work for the weekend done at once, that way he’d be free to slack off with Scott after detention the next day.   
  
“It’s almost midnight, boy,” Madam William’s said from behind him. Stiles nearly jumped, but she just gave him a calm, small smile. William’s had always been fond of him. “You might want to sneak back to your dormitory before you get caught.” She added before breezing past him.  
  
“Crap,” Stiles muttered, grabbing his things. Like he needed to add ‘out past curfew’ to his list of offences  this week.  
  
He was just shouldering out of the library when he ran into a solid wall. Or person, maybe. A muscular person.  
  
“Shit!” Stiles shouted, heart pounding in his chest. His books fell to the ground and he hurried to grab them.  
  
“Do you realize what time it is?” the mountainous person asked.  
  
Stiles squeezed his eyes closed and straightened up. _Please no_ , be prayed before opening them again. “Damn it,” he murmured.  
  
Derek looked like a kid on Christmas. He grinned as he started circling around Stiles, who crossed his arms over his chest and tried to look like he didn’t care.  
  
“Another detention?” Derek mused out loud. “Or maybe I’ll take fifty points from Ravenclaw.”  
  
Stiles made an outraged sound. “You-- you can’t do that!”  
  
Derek stopped in front of him once again. “I’m pretty sure I can.”  
  
“Come on, man,” Stiles groaned. “I was doing _homework_.”  
  
Derek narrowed his eyes, but they dropped from Stiles’ face, to his chest. He pursed his lips, looking annoyed. “Do you not know how to tie that thing?” he demanded. “You’ve always got it hanging half undone.”  
  
Stiles frowned and looked down at his tie. “Oh, I-- it‘s more comfortable. Like this, I mean.” He shrugged.   
  
Derek sighed. “I’ll see you after lunch tomorrow, Stilinski.” He said before walking past him.  
  
Stiles stared after him, having no idea what the hell just happened.  
  


\--

  
  
“Silent treatment again?” Stiles asked, sliding into the same desk he’d used the previous day. Derek grunted in response. Stiles took that as a yes and folded his arms on the table before leaning his head down on them.  
  
Eventually his eyes started to droop and he figured that if he stayed there doing nothing for any longer, he’d definitely pass out. So, he pulled his wand out of his pocket and twirled it between his fingers a few times.   
  
Really, it was an accident when it happened. He didn’t mean to _drop it_. And the fire that erupted on his legs? Totally unintentional.   
  
Stiles yelped, jumping out of his seat. He tried to pat his leg without burning his hand, but he wasn’t succeeding in putting the fire out at all.  
  
Derek was at his side in seconds, his own wand in his hand. He said something under his breath, and then the fire was put out by a steady jet of water coming from the tip. It left Stiles soaking wet.  
  
“Put that thing _away_ ,” Derek ordered, his eyes flicking to Stiles’ wand, where it still lay on the ground.  
  
“Thanks, Professor Hale.” Stiles snapped at him, wiping his hands on his now soaking wet legs. “I really appreciate it.” He said dryly. He bent down to grab his wand. “Can I go change now? Or do you have a spell that can fix this?”  
  
He knew there was a drying spell, he just couldn’t remember exactly what it was. “I guess my class isn’t the only one you don’t pay attention in.” Derek smirked, heading back to his desk. “And you’ll sit there until I tell you that you can leave.”  
  
“Seriously?” Stiles demanded. “But--,”  
  
“Sit _down_ , Stilinski.” Derek ordered.  
  
Stiles felt anger boil up inside him. He was drenched, cold, and furious. Without another thought, he raised his eyebrows,  nodded at Derek, said “Okay,”, put his wand on the desk, and then reached down and pulled off his wet pants.  
  
Derek made a choked noise. “Stiles, what the hell--,”  
  
“I’m not sitting in wet clothes for the next two hours.” Stiles said defiantly. “Either you let me change, or I’m going to sit here half naked.”  
  
Derek tried to give Stiles that steely glare again, but his eyes were wide, and his cheeks were flushed, so it really didn’t have the same effect. “You’re dismissed for the day.” He said tightly.  
  
Stiles grinned, victorious. He didn’t even bother pulling his clothes back on as he headed from the room. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d walked through the halls half naked. At least this time he had boxers on.

  
  
\--

  
  
Stiles made it all the way to his room, pulled on a clean, dry pair of pants, and almost made it down to the library to look for Scott when he realized he’d left his wand on the desk in the Defence Against the Dark Arts room.   
  
He sighed and veered left, heading in that direction. He hoped Derek was still inside and hadn’t locked the door, because he kind of doubted that Derek would be willing to go all the way back to the room just so Stiles could get his wand. He’d be left without it for the rest of the day, and that made him feel uncomfortable and exposed, like that time in fourth year when he’d broken his wand and had to wait four days for his dad to send a replacement.   
  
Derek wasn’t inside the room but, fortunately, the door was unlocked. He quickly walked over to the desk, grabbed his wand, and was about to go when he heard someone groan in pain. Stiles frowned in confusion before he realized that the sound was coming from the shut door of Derek’s office. He hesitated, knowing he should probably just leave it. But if the guy was hurt and he hadn’t at least went to check on him, he’d feel guilty.   
  
He sighed and headed towards the door, climbing the small set of stairs. He probably should have knocked first, but he didn’t.  
  
And he was so, so stupid. Because hey, he was a teenage boy. He was pretty well experienced with the whole masturbation thing, and he should have _realized_ before he’d even started towards the room. But he didn’t, and so he pushed open the door, and almost fell over.  
  
Derek was sitting at the small desk inside the room. His chair was pushed back against the wall, and his legs were spread. He was still fully dressed, technically, but his pants were undone, his shirt untucked. He had his eyes closed, head tilted back a bit. The muscles in his forearm bunched as he fisted himself quickly, and his lips were parted. It took everything in Stiles to step away from the room and shut the door.   
  
He tried to close it as quietly as he could, and apparently he succeeded, because Derek pull it back open and yell at him, or give him a years worth of detention.  
  
“Shit,” Stiles breathed, stepping backwards.

  
  
\--

  
“You okay?” Scott asked at dinner.  
  
“What? Why wouldn’t I be?” Stiles demanded, looking sharply at his best friend.  
  
Scott raised his eyebrows. “You’ve been jumpy all night.” He shrugged.   
  
“I’m fine.” Stiles lied, teeth clenched.  
  
He risked a glance at the staff table. Derek was sitting beside Mulder, and he was smiling and chatting away, as if nothing had happened. The imagine of Derek, head thrown back, cheeks flushed, cock in hand, flashed through his mind and Stiles nearly choked.   
  
How the hell he was supposed to spend another two days worth of detention with the man, when he couldn’t even _look_ at him without getting a boner, Stiles wasn’t sure. All he did know was that he was totally, completely screwed.

  
  
\--

  
  
Stiles stood in front of Derek’s classroom door and sighed. The sheet hanging from the door read: _Meet me on the Quidditch pitch_. Somehow, he knew this wasn’t going to be a fun afternoon of flying.   
  
This thought was further proven when he walked onto the pitch, and Derek was standing near the doors to the equipment shed. “I was talking to Mulder at dinner yesterday, and he mentioned that most of the Ravenclaw equipment hasn’t had a proper washing in months.” He turned and unlocked the door, revealing row upon row of old, worn brooms and bats. “So I figured this way you could do your detention, and help out your house.”  
  
“There’s got to be twenty brooms in there,” Stiles complained.   
  
“And they all better shine when you’re done.” Derek told him.  
  
Stiles put a hand on his hip but avoided looking at Derek directly. What if he could read Stiles’ mind, and knew what he’d seen? What if he actually just lured him out here so he could kill him and hide the body?  
  
“What about you?” Stiles asked instead of voicing these concerns.   
  
Derek reached into the shed and grabbed a broom. “I’ll be out here, waiting for you to finish.”  
  
Stiles sighed and pulled out his wand before Derek shook his head. “What?” Stiles asked, eyes narrowing. “If you want me to get this done, I’m going to need it.”  
  
“There’s a bucket and a cloth in the shed.” Derek instructed. “You might want to start now, if you plan on finishing before dinner.”  
  
Stiles watched with envy as Derek swung his legs on both side of the broom, and then took off. He found himself standing there for a few moments, watching him go. Derek was shaky at first, his turns too wide, but after a few minutes, when he got the hang of it, he was graceful and skilled. Stiles could have watched him all afternoon, if he was being honest with himself. But he had work to do.  
  
It was slow, tedious work. There was nothing challenging about it, but that wasn’t technically a bad thing. It was just _boring_. Especially in comparison to what Derek was doing. Stiles kind of wanted to just grab one of the brooms and take off after him, say screw it to detention. What would Derek do, anyways? Take away house points? Give him another detention?  
  
When he was about halfway done, Derek landed in front of the shed. “Almost finished?” He asked, voice tilted in a mocking tone.   
  
Stiles couldn’t help it-- he slid the cloth in his hand slowly up the broomstick, tilting his head suggestively as he did so. “I would be, if you decided to help.” He said.  
  
Derek’s eyes narrowed, but Stiles noted the way he swallowed thickly. “I’m going up to the castle. You better be here when I get back.”  
  
Stiles rolled his eyes, shoulder slumping, but nodded. He would be here, and he’d still be working, he figured.  
  
Half an hour, and eight perfectly polished brooms, later, Derek returned. He was carrying a small bag. Stiles wondered what it was, but he didn’t ask.  
  
“I’m almost done.” He said, turning away from Derek. “Fifteen more minutes, at the most.”  
  
“Alright,” Derek said. “I got snacks, if you wanted to take a break.”  
  
Stiles froze in the middle of polishing one of the brooms. He turned to Derek, cloth clutched tightly in his hands. “You brought us snacks.”  
  
Derek looked at a place above Stiles’ head and shrugged. “I figured you might be hungry.”  
  
“I am,” Stiles agreed. “I just didn’t think you’d care.”  
  
“Yeah, well,” Derek shrugged again. He turned away from the shed and sprawled out on the green grass a few feet away. Stiles hesitated before throwing the cloth in the bucket and following him.  
  
He flopped onto the ground beside Derek, looking a lot less graceful. He didn’t really care. Derek didn’t seem to, either. He just pulled two sandwiches out of his bag, passing one to Stiles.  
  
“So,” Stiles started after Derek took a bit. “How old are you?” He asked, because the question had been nagging at him for a while. Plus, it was better to fill the silences, because he didn’t want his mind to wander back to Derek, alone in his office.   
  
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” Derek said gruffly.  
  
Stiles shrugged and took a bite of his sandwich, but he wasn’t letting it drop. “True,” he said after swallowing. “But you don’t look old enough to be a teacher.”  
  
“I’m twenty-four.” Derek said after a beat. “Is that old enough, by your standards?”  
  
“No.” Stiles answered instantly. “No offence. But didn’t you just escape school? Why the hell would you want to come right back?”  
  
Derek sighed and put his sandwich on his leg. “Not many places want to hire someone with a criminal past, especially when that criminal past has to do with the dark arts. Even if it turned out, in the end, that you weren't the one responsible.”  
  
Stiles tried not to feel guilty. It wasn’t like _he_ was the one who arrested the guy, and yet, he was still getting the backlash from it every day, in the form of these detentions. “Sorry,” he said anyways.  
  
Derek didn’t look at him. “You should get back to work.”

  
  
\--

 

  
“So you ate sandwiches.” Scott repeated.  
  
“Yep,” Stiles agreed. “And I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him.”  
  
“You do realize he’s a _teacher_ , right?” Scott asked.  
  
“Yeah, I know.”  
  
“And that it’s totally not going to happen.”  
  
“Again, I know.” Stiles sighed. “I can’t help it. Apparently stubble-faced assholes are my type. Who knew?”  
  
Scott laughed. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m going on a  date with Isaac during the next Hogsmeade trip.”  
  
“Why the hell would that make me feel any better?” Stiles asked, giving Scott an incredulous look over the top of his charms book.  
  
Scott grinned. “It won’t, but I just wanted to brag.”  
  
“Great,” Stiles muttered. “And I’ll be staying here, doing nothing, because it was bad enough being the third wheel that time with Erica and Boyd, I‘m not doing it with you and Isaac.”  
  
“Or you could go by yourself,” Scott suggested. “You know, sometimes professors go to Hogsmeade too.”  
  


\--

  
  
In the end, Stiles decided not to go. Instead, he held up in the library, alternating between doing his charms homework and reading. No one else was in the library but Madam William’s, and she was always at her desk on the other side of the large room.  
  
“You know, everyone else in your year went to Hogsmeade,” a voice said directly in his ear.  
  
Stiles jumped, the book he was holding falling to the table. “What is wrong with you?” he demanded, but Derek just smirked. Stiles rolled his eyes. “I didn’t want to go.” He said, replying to Derek’s words.  
  
Derek gave him one last, disinterested look, and headed towards one of the isles. Stiles found himself getting out of his chair and following him.  
  
“What are you doing here, anyways?” He asked, trailing behind.  
  
“Looking for a book, obviously.”  
  
“I mean, why didn’t you go? Longbottom and Hawthorne never miss out on a trip to Hogsmeade.” Stiles pointed out. “You could have went, too.”  
  
Derek shrugged and paused in front of a row of books. He knelt down, and Stiles tried not to notice the way his ass looked like that. “Didn’t want to.” He answered. “I don’t see what’s so special about the place.”  
  
“How can you not like Hogsmeade? It‘s awesome.” Stiles said, sounding incredulous.  
  
Derek turned his head to meet his eyes. “So then why didn’t you go?”  
  
Stiles shoved his hands in his pockets. “My best friend has a date. I didn’t want to be the third wheel.”  
  
“Why didn’t you just ask someone, then?” Derek questioned, pulling a book off the shelf. He opened it, and then seconds later closed it again and put it back.   
  
He sounded completely indifferent, like he really didn’t care if Stiles answered or not. He still did, though. “There wasn’t really anyone I wanted to go with.” He said. A total lie, really, because there was one person he’d like to go with. Unfortunately, that person also happened to be his teacher who hated him, so he decided not to mention it.  
  
“Not one person?” Derek pressed.  
  
“Not one that could say yes.” He answered honestly that time.  
  
Stiles noticed the way Derek’s shoulders tensed at that answer, like he could just _tell_   what Stiles really meant. Stiles regretted saying it at all.  
  
“Well, maybe next time.” Derek said, standing up. “See you in class, Stiles.”  
  
Stiles tried not to think about the fact that that was the second time he’d called him Stiles instead of Stilinski.

  
  
\--

  
  
It had been three weeks since his last detention with Derek. Three weeks since they’d been alone together. Apparently, whatever grudge Derek held against Stiles at the beginning of the year was now gone. And Stiles was actually kind of upset about it.  
  
He knew Scott was right. Derek was his _teacher_ , and while Stiles was technically old enough that it wasn’t against the law, Derek could definitely get in a lot of trouble if anything were to happen. Not that anything was likely to happen, because, while Derek apparently no longer hated him, he seemed pretty indifferent to Stiles’ entire existence.  
  
When Stiles pulled out his wand in the middle of class and cast a spell that made all of the objects on Derek’s desk float around, it totally wasn’t so he would get in trouble, and then have some alone time with Professor Hale.   
  
Except it totally was.  
  
Derek looked furious as he looked around the classroom. “Who?” He asked, looking around.  
  
Everyone was quiet, though Stiles didn’t doubt that everyone had seen him do it. So, he raised his hand and gave himself up.  
  
Derek’s eyes narrowed. “That better not happen again.”  
  
Stiles stared at him, mouth open, but Derek just turned back to the board, continuing to write out the proper incantation for some spell that protected entire houses.   
  
“What the hell were you thinking?” Scott hissed at him. “You could have just gotten a months worth of detention.”  
  
“Yeah, but I didn’t get _any_ ,” Stiles said, frowning.  
  
He narrowed his eyes on Derek’s back, and then lifted his wand again. Scott was shaking his head, mouthing the word ‘no’, but Stiles ignored him. “Wingardium leviosa.” He said quietly, pointing his wand direction at the picture frame on Derek’s desk.   
  
The frame started floating, and Stiles moved his wand, directing it. He felt the eyes of more than one classmate on him as he lifted it higher, and higher still, and then flicked his wand forward, so that it hit Derek in the back, a bit harder than he meant to.   
  
This time when Derek whirled around, there wasn’t an question of who did it. His eyes pierced into Stiles, and his breathing was ragged, like he was trying to control his rage.  
  
“Sorry?” Stiles said, smiling innocently.   
  
Derek ran a hand over his face. “One more incident like that, and it’ll be 50 points from Ravenclaw.”  
  
“That’s not really fair,” Stiles said quickly. “Wouldn’t make more sense just to punish me, instead of the whole--,”  
  
“10 points from Ravenclaw.” Derek bellowed.  
  
Stiles closed his mouth. That plan, apparently, wasn’t going to work.  
  
After class, Scott tugged on his arm, probably wanting to barrage him with questions. He didn’t get a chance to, though, because right before they made it out the door, Derek’s voice called him back.  
  
“Stilinksi,” he sounded annoyed and tired.  
  
“Sorry,” Stiles mouthed to Scott before grinning and turning around. “Yeah?” He asked.  
  
Derek waited until everyone else was out of the room. “What the hell was that?” He demanded.  
  
“What was what?” Stiles asked, tilting his head to the side.  
  
“You know what,” Derek said, crossing his arms over his chest. That move was really unfair, because his arms bulged and looked even larger than usual. “Are you _trying_ to get in trouble?”  
  
Stiles bit his lip for a moment, considering this. Eventually, he answered, “maybe.”  
  
Derek frowned. “Why would you--,” he froze, mouth still open.  Stiles was quiet, waiting for him to say _something_. Derek sighed. “You’re going to get me in a lot of trouble one of these days,” he muttered. “Get out of my classroom, Stiles.”  
  
Stiles wanted to protest, but a group of fifth years came into the room, and Stiles remembered that he had a class to get to. _You’re going to get me in a lot of trouble one of these days_ kept repeating itself in his mind, though.

  
\--

  
  
The first Quidditch game of the year was Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, which meant that Stiles had absolutely no choice but to go, to support both his house and his best friend. Stiles himself wasn’t on the team. He tried out in his third year, but when he hit their then captain, Miranda Norvak, in the head with a bludger, he decided it wasn’t really his sport.  
  
He climbed the stairs of the stands, noticing Isaac, who looked out of place in his green tie, sitting beside Boyd and Erica. He was about to head in their direction when someone whispered in his ear, “So which team will you be cheering for? Your house, or your friend?”  
  
“Both,” Stiles answered, not needing to turn around to recognize that voice. “What about you, professor?”  
  
“Derek,” he corrected, following behind as Stiles moved towards two empty spaces. He wasn’t going to sit with Boyd and Erica if he might have a chance at sitting with Derek.  
  
“That’s a bit unprofessional, don’t you think?” Stiles commented, sliding onto the bench seat. Just as he’d hoped, Derek did the same right beside him.   
  
He looked good, too, wrapped in a long black cloak. His stubble was a bit longer than usual, and his cheeks were flushed from the cold wind.   
  
“So are a lot of things.” Derek answered, a slight uplift to his lips.  
  
Stiles tried not to think of all the different ways he could mean that. “You didn’t answer my question.” Stiles pointed out. “Which team are you rooting for?”  
  
Derek blinked. “Gryffindor.” He said after a moment.   
  
Stiles elbowed him. “Rude.” He commented. “And you know they’re going to lose. I mean, I love Scott, but Ravenclaw’s definitely got this.”  
  
“Really?” Derek didn’t sound convinced.  
  
“Totally. Our Seeker is way better. Scott’s a good beater, but Markus has nothing on our team.” Stiles said firmly. “I’d be willing to bet anything that Ravenclaw wins. It’ll be close, but still.”  
  
“Okay,” Derek agreed. “How about this: if Gryffindor does end up winning, you have to stop disrupting my class every chance you get.”  
  
He hadn’t really meant that he wanted to bet. It was just a figure of speech. But if Derek really wanted to… “Deal,” Stiles said, extending his hand. Derek shook it.  
  
“And if you win?” Derek asked, turning back to the field.  
  
Stiles grinned. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

  
  
\--

  
  
Gryffindor lost by ten points. Stiles cheered for his house and turned to Derek, looking smug. Derek didn’t look upset. In fact, he just shrugged, looking amused by Stiles’ fist pumps.   
  
“It was close.” He pointed out.  
  
“Yeah, but you still lost,” Stiles said triumphantly.  
  
For a moment, it was almost easy to forget that Derek wasn’t a student. He wasn’t any taller than Stiles was, and he kind of fit in the with the crowd around him, except for the fact that he wasn’t wearing and house colours.   
  
“And that means I win the bet.” Stiles added. His voice lowered. “If I told you to kiss me, would you?”  
  
Derek’s eyes widened a fraction. “You know I can’t.” He said, equally quiet.  
  
“That doesn’t mean you don’t want to.” Stiles pointed out, feeling his heart stutter in his chest. In fact, that almost sounded like he did want to.  
  
“No,” Derek reluctantly agreed. “It doesn’t.”  
  
“Hey, Stiles,” Erica’s voice said from behind him. She, Boyd and Isaac came over to where he was standing with Derek.  
  
“I’ll see you in detention after class tomorrow.” Derek said quickly before turning and walking away.  
  
“Another detention?” Boyd asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“Right? That guy totally won’t get off my case.” Stiles said, trying to sound annoyed. It was hard not to grin.

  
  
\--

  
“Derek?” Stiles called, shouldering into the classroom. Derek wasn’t sitting at his desk at the front of the room, like he usually was.  
  
Stiles put his books on his table. He figured that since, technically, this couldn’t really count as a detention, that he could bring his homework to work on.   
  
“I’m in my office,” Derek answered.  
  
Stiles’ eyes flitted to the door. He swallowed. Last time he’d been in that room, Derek had-- he’d been-- _shit_ , he was going to get another awkward boner if he didn’t stop thinking about that.  
  
This time when he pushed open the door to Derek’s office, Derek was standing up, leaning over his desk, and riffling through the mess of papers on it. Stiles wasn’t sure if he was relieved, or disappointed.   
  
“So, any particular reason why I’m in detention today?” Stiles asked. “Or was that just an excuse for my friends?”  
  
“That was an excuse for _me_ ,” Derek answered, still going through his papers. “To get you alone.”  
  
“Really?” Stiles asked, voice an octave higher than usual. “So--,”  
  
“But then I remembered that you’re a student, and I’m your teacher, and that we could get in a lot of trouble so you--,” he looked up at Stiles for a moment and then back down at his desk. “You should probably just go.”  
  
Stiles stared at his back, aghast. “Derek,” he tried, shaking his head.  
  
“Professor Hale,” Derek corrected instantaneously.   
  
Stiles narrowed his eyes. “So that’s what you want me to call you now?”  
  
Derek turned around and leaned on his desk. He looked younger, wearing a thick black sweater, his stubble trimmed shorter than Stiles had seen it yet.  
  
“Yes,” he said firmly. “Or-- I don’t know. No. Maybe.” He looked lost. “You should go.” He repeated.  
  
“The fact that I should doesn’t mean that either of us want me to.” Stiles pointed out, stepping farther into the room. The office door swung shut behind him and Derek flinched at the sound of it slamming closed. “And personally? I know for a fact that I definitely don’t want to.”  
  
He stopped right in front of Derek. He wasn’t close enough that they were touching, but if either of them moved, just a fraction, they could be.  
  
Derek sighed and reached for Stiles’ tie, his fingers curling around the loose blue and bronze material. “Do you ever tie this thing?” he asked, not for the first time.  
  
Stiles grinned. “Nope.”  
  
Derek made a low, rumbling sound, and then pulled on the tie, dragging Stiles closer. Their bodies pressed together, front to front, and Stiles had to put both his hands flat on the desk on either sides of Derek’s body for balance.   
  
“I think you should probably give me that kiss now.” Stiles said, eyes flitting between the hazel of Derek’s, and Derek’s lips.   
  
Derek groaned but complied, releasing Stiles’ tie to curl a hand around the back of his neck, bridging that last bit of distance between them.  
  
The thing is, Stiles had imagined this so many times, in so many different ways, but in the end it was nothing compared to the real thing. He’d never considered how good it would feel to have Derek’s stubble rubbing against his chin, or the calluses on the hands that Derek slid down his neck and over his collarbone. He hadn’t expected Derek to taste sweet, or for his lips to be that soft and slick against his.   
  
Stiles moved his hands from the desk to Derek’s waist as Derek licked at his bottom lip, asking for entrance, which Stiles granted instantly. Their tongues brushed together, neither of them dominating. It was a lazy, unhurried kiss.   
  
Stiles pulled back for a moment, his lips not straying far from Derek’s, though. “What were you looking for, anyways?” He asked, meaning when Derek had been flipping through the papers on his desk.   
  
Derek apparently didn’t want to remove his lips from Stiles, because they moved to his neck the second he broke contact. “Nothing important.” He answered before pushing the material of Stiles’ shirt over so he could suck on the skin of his shoulder.  
  
“Good, because you’re not going to find it.” Stiles said, using his hands on Derek’s hips to push him farther up the desk. A few papers fell to the ground but neither of them cared, especially not when Derek took the opportunity to wrap his legs around Stiles’ waist, pulling them even closer together.  
  
Experimentally, Stiles rolled his hips forward, giving them a bit more friction. The pressure was perfect but Stiles was worried for a second that Derek would realize just how turned on he was by this, and push him away. Apparently that was worrying for nothing, because the sound Derek made in response was completely wrecked and abandoned.   
  
Stiles fumbled for the buttons on Derek’s shirt, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to get it off, like, _right now_. Derek didn’t seem to mind, his hands moving to Stiles’ waist, pushing up under his own button up. Derek’s fingers were slightly cold against his skin, but that only made it all the better as he ran his fingers over the small of his back, up his ribs, and then just the tip of his fingers above the waistband of his pants.  
  
“Fuck,” Stiles breathed. “This needs to come off.” He said, fingers failing to undo Derek’s shirt fast enough. He considered just ripping the whole thing, but he wasn’t sure if Derek would appreciate that.  
  
Derek chuckled but reached down and pulled his shirt off, not bothering with the buttons.   
  
“That works, too,” Stiles nodded, eyes roving the newly exposed skin. “Why the hell are you a teacher?” Stiles demanded, laying his hands flat on Derek’s chest and then moving them downwards, over his abs, to the thin trail of dark hair that led downwards. “You should be a model.” he continued, sliding his hands back up, fingers brushing over Derek’s nipples. This time, he used his nails when he went back down, leaving faint pink marks in their wake.  
  
Derek didn’t let him continue to talk, which was probably a good thing, because he was about five minutes away from writing sonnets about Derek’s shirtless body-- it was glorious, okay? Having someone shut you up with their lips is apparently very effective.   
  
“We should probably lock that door, though,” Stiles realized, his words whispering against Derek’s lips.  
  
Derek grunted and reached into his pants, pulling out his wand. He didn’t even speak, he just flicked his wrist, and the sound of the door locking echoed through the room.  
  
“That was kind of hot,” Stiles admitted, reaching up to tangle a hand in Derek’s hair. It was softer than he’d expected, and thick.   
  
Derek grinned against his lips when Stiles kissed him again, but he pushed forward, making Stiles back up. His feet hit the ground and Stiles was about to ask him what he was doing where Derek turned them, so Stiles was the one pressed against the desk, and easily lifted him so that his ass landed on top of it.   
  
“If you’re not going to shut up,” he said, fingers unbuttoning Stiles’ shirt with way more ease than Stiles had when attempting Derek’s,. “Then I’m going to have to make you.”   
  
When his own shirt was undone, he expected Derek to kiss him again. Instead, Derek’s lips moved to his chest, teeth nipping the skin there just shy of too hard. He moved slowly, leaving red marks all over Stiles’ pale skin, until he stopped just below Stiles’ bellybutton. His tongue flicked out, swiping a line over the skin there, and Stiles resisted the urge to fist his hands in Derek’s hair and urge him downwards. He’d never been so achingly hard in his life.  
  
Stiles’ breathing was ragged and heavy by the time Derek hooked his fingers under the waistband of his pants. “This okay?” He asked.  
  
Stiles nodded so fast he was surprised he didn’t get whiplash. “Definitely okay.” He agreed. “More than okay.”  
  
Derek smirked and made quick work of the button and zipper. There was a second of relief at not being strained against the tight material of his pants, but Derek didn’t let him revel in it for long before he tugged Stiles’ pants down, so they fell halfway down his ass.  
  
He couldn’t exactly move like that, because if he did, he’d end up falling flat on his face, the way his legs were constrained. But Derek’s long, thick fingers squeezed him through the material of his boxers, and everything else was really unimportant.   
  
His hips jerked up into the touch, wanting more. Derek apparently realized this. He pulled Stiles closer to the edge of the desk, and then he sunk down on his knees. There was no hesitation, or teasing. One moment, Stiles was still half dressed. The next, Derek tugged down the rest of his clothing and then got a hand on him, long fingers wrapping around his shaft.   
  
Stiles didn’t really have much experience with this kind of thing. The farthest he’d ever gone was getting his hand up Heather Smith’s shirt in fifth year, when a couple of other kids in their year had smuggled in bottles of Firewhiskey. He’d never had anyone else touch him, not like this. And the way Derek was looking up at him, all long lashed with his pupils blown wide, was almost enough to have him going right then, before they even got to the good part.  
  
Derek pumped his hand up once and then leaned forward, his tongue snaking out and running, all wet and warm, from his where his fingers wrapped around Stiles, to the head. Stiles’ whole body shuddered, and his leg jerked a bit. “You’re going to kill me,” he groaned, letting his head fall back. He didn’t need to look at Derek to know he was smirking.  
  
It didn’t last long after that. Derek’s lips wrapped around him, and he’d definitely had a lot more experience than Stiles had, because he seemed to know what he was doing, hand and mouth working Stiles quickly, tongue coming in at the right times. Stiles put a hand on Derek’s shoulder, trying to push him away, and made a warning sound.   
  
Derek pulled off with his mouth, but his hand continued to move quickly, just like he’d done on himself so many days ago when Stiles had walked in. Stiles’ body tensed and his eyes flickered closed as he came over Derek’s fingers, hands clinging to the edge of the desk, like he might fall to the floor if he didn’t have something to keep him upright.  
  
When Derek stood back up, he wiped the back of his mouth. Stiles pulled him back in for another kiss, not really caring that he could taste himself on Derek’s lips. “So I guess you rethought that whole ‘bad idea’ thing, huh?” Stiles grinned.  
  
Derek moved his hips against Stiles’, and Stiles remembered that he still had to be painfully hard in his pants. “It’s still a bad idea.” He said firmly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop, apparently.”  
  
“Good,” Stiles said, cupping his cheek. He let his thumb rub over the rough stubble there. “Because in a few months, I’m going to graduate anyways, and then no one is going to care how many times you bent me over your desk and had your way with me.”  
  
“I have a feeling you’re going to set a record for most time spent in detention in one year.” Derek mused, leaning into his touch.   
  
Stiles’ smile widened. “Looking forward to it.”

  
  
\--

  
  
“You coming to Hogsmeade with us this week?” Scott asked at dinner months later.  
  
Stiles’ eyes flickered to the staff table for a moment. He found Derek watching him and resisted the urge to grin. “Can’t,” he said, “I’ve got--,”  
  
“-- detention.” Boyd finished for him, rolling his eyes. “That guy seriously has it out for you.”  
  
Scott gave him a knowing look but didn’t comment. That was probably because, if he did, Stiles would bring up the fact that Scott had blown off Quidditch practice three nights ago to make out with Isaac in an abandoned classroom. Apparently, sneaking around wasn’t just something he and Derek did.  
  
“Actually,” Stiles said, meeting Derek’s eyes again as he stood up. “I’ve got some homework I really have to work on.” He grabbed his wand off the table. “I’ll see you guys later.”  
  
He didn’t have to look to the staff table to know that Derek had risen too.

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know what happened to this fic. I was in the mood to write smut, but I've also been wanting to do a teacher/student Au, and then I started to do a Hogwarts AU, and they all kind of just crashed into each other, and this is the result. I apologize.   
> Unbeta'd because I'm too impatient to wait for someone to do it.


End file.
